


The Sound of Silence

by Ecchima



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Hanzo Shimada, Casual McHanzo, Deaf Hanzo Shimada, Fluff and Humor, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Sign Language, Singer Jesse McCree, Sojiro loves his sons, hanzo pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecchima/pseuds/Ecchima
Summary: In a world where everyone hears music whenever their soulmate does, two souls struggle to find their other halves.As far as he can remember, Hanzo has always been deaf but it's ok, because he can still hear music in his head.As far as Jesse can tell, he doesn't have a soulmate at all.





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy everyone, it is I, Ecchima! Back with another fic that I hope you will enjoy but first: a special round of thanks!  
> -Thank you to the McHanzo Sanctuary server for all the amazing AUs, headcanons and fic talks  
> -Thank you to Shipper_Shennanigans, Beanji and Delanie who gave me the bases and half the ideas for this fic  
> -Lastly, thank you to Soap for being a fast and amazing beta!
> 
> I won't bother you much longer but I also wanted to thank you, reader, for hitting on this little monster I wrote!

Since the day he was born, Hanzo has been living in a world of silence. For years, no one knew why the young heir to the well-known Shimada clan did not speak.

At first, his parents thought he was just a quiet child, and the elders thrilled that even as a baby, their new heir was well behaved. It did not last long. When they noticed that Hanzo was starting to fall behind the other kids his age, his family tried to make him speak at all costs. Finally, after many fruitless attempts, they brought him to the hospital where a poor nurse had to deliver them the fatal news: Hanzo was born deaf.

A deaf leader? What a disgrace. The day following the news, Sojiro was called in front of the elders. Within the next month, Hanzo’s mom was pregnant again and nine months later, Genji was born.

They ran tests on the newborn as soon as they could, and all of them came back negative.

It did not take long for the elders to proclaim Genji their new heir, leaving Hanzo in the shadows.

* * *

 

When he was seven, instead of being sent to school, Hanzo was asked to sit for hours and learn sign language properly. He had known basic words, to ask for food or tell his parents he was cold, but even a disowned member of the Shimada clan must be flawless, and so he learned.

It was hard at first, since Hanzo did not know many words in either sign language or Japanese, but it brought him great joy whenever his father would ask him how his day was and he could answer with his own words. Sometimes, one or both of his parents would take the class with him, making his day even better.

Because of this, Hanzo did not have friends but he had something else, something better: a voice singing in his head. He didn’t know why it was the only thing he could hear, or why he seemed to be the only one able to hear it, but it happened nonetheless. Sometimes during class, or over dinner, he could hear either a clear and soft voice or a loud and boisterous one singing.

As far as he could remember, the singing had always been there and so he never wondered nor asked where it came from, or why it was the only thing he could hear.

One night, after a nightmare, he started humming the tune of one of the songs he had heard, unable to hear his own voice but feeling the vibrations through his mouth. It soothed him to pretend he could hear the voice singing. But he hummed so loudly and out of tune that it woke Genji up, upsetting him.

Hanzo tried to apologize to his little brother but Genji had dashed out of the room, crying that Hanzo was being mean to him and keeping him up on purpose.

Of course no one understood what was happening; Hanzo had never tried to use his voice before. When he told them he was simply trying to replicate the song he could hear in his head, his parents looked at each other oddly. His mother started crying and his father laughed.

They told him to go back to bed, that they would explain tomorrow, but Hanzo lingered. The elders weren’t around and Genji was already falling back asleep in their parent’s bed. He looked up and signed, “Can I stay?”

His parents did not even hesitate, signing back, “Of course.”

* * *

 

The following day, they all sat under the cherry blossoms and Hanzo’s mother started telling a story while her husband signed it.

_Long ago, a young fisherman man fell in love with a woman whose singing was so mesmerizing that it was said to bring fortune unto whoever listened to it. He loved her so much that he would come by her house every day with a new gift, even though he was not particularly rich. He would bring her fruits, flowers, and on very rare occasions, pearls he had found in the sea._

_She kept every one of his presents, and insisted that he did not have to bring any more, that he could come see her whenever he wanted. But every time, the young man arrived with another present._

_One day, there was a violent storm and the young man broke his arm. He was unable to work but kept on bringing gifts to the woman. She begged him to stop, to keep what little he had at least long enough for him to heal, but he stubbornly refused._

_She proposed to him then, saying, “If I am your wife, you will have no need to court me anymore.” The young man could not refuse such a proposition._

_They got married on a beautiful day, had one child they loved above everything else, and grew old together._

_The people in the village said they were so in love, their souls must be bound together. But, as the time passed, their health started to decay. The man’s knees protested when carrying him and the woman’s hearing started to fade._

_Saddened to see his wife unable to sing or listen to any kind of music, the now-old man prayed to the gods, begging them to give his own hearing to his wife so that she could be happy again._

_Upon seeing such great love, the gods agreed that two souls bound to be lovers would be able to hear the same music as their other halves._

When his mother finished her tale, she looked at Hanzo and signed, “I am so happy to know there is someone out there for you.”

* * *

 

As Hanzo grew older and became fluent in Japanese Sign Language, he was asked to learn the American one as well. After all, Genji had to learn English, so why shouldn’t he? And since he was finally able to understand his tutors, why not teach him other things? He was a Shimada after all, and Shimadas must be flawless.

Between being deeply buried in his education, Genji just starting his own, and with clan matters taking up most of his parents’ time, Hanzo started to feel lonely. He couldn’t ask his non-disabled brother to come home early after school and deny him the joy of having friends outside of the family, nor could he stay behind his mother’s robes, so he did what lonely kids with a lot of free time do: he started to draw.

Drawing was a nice, silent and creative activity that Hanzo could practice on his own, and it gave him a way to express himself without signing. At first, the only things he wanted to draw were cool and impressive dragons, just like the ones in his family’s dojo. Then he tried his hand at sentai warriors because Genji would stay stuck to the TV screen on Saturday mornings, watching those superheroes kick butt.

Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes, and Hanzo was a fast learner with lots of free time. At nine years old, he won an artistic contest after Genji had submitted one of his drawings in secret. The elders were not pleased, but Hanzo had a proud smile stuck to his face for weeks.

One day, as he was experimenting with inks, Hanzo heard a young voice in his head singing a song he had never heard before. It was a happy tune, the sort of thing he could picture Genji humming. The song was accompanied by some sort of instrument, but it seemed like the person singing did not know how to play it because some of the notes sounded as though they did not belong. Like that time Hanzo tried to paint a blue sky but messed up his gradient.

That comparison made him pause and look at his sheets of expensive ink paper. What if he tried drawing the song in his head?

* * *

 

During the following years, Hanzo mastered both American and Chinese sign languages on top of his other studies. Frustrated by his dependence on his hands to communicate, he began to take lessons in lip reading and, encouraged by his tutor, started learning how to speak.

Reading lips was hard, and learning how to talk through only vibrations was even harder, but Hanzo could always count on the music in his head to cheer him up. After all, one day he would meet his soulmate and he wanted to be able to explain just how much their songs meant to him, how they inspired him to paint… And how they kept him going.

He may not have been able to hear what people were saying about him, but he was not blind. He could see their fake smiles and hypocrisy from miles away. They pretended to like him, to be proud of him, but they pitied him. The perfect heir, put aside because he could not hear, working so hard to learn. How sad.

Meanwhile, Genji started to show just how little he cared about the clan, and Hanzo knew an argument was brewing about whether or not he should have stayed the heir.

Soon after Genji’s first attempt at rebellion -he had dyed his hair a horrendous shade of green- his mother grew ill and died. His father, facing an increasing number of duties, was all too happy to bury himself deeper into work to drown out his sorrow.

The only thing that brought warmth to Hanzo’s cold and broken world was the music he could hear from his soulmate. But even that was growing more melancholic and sad. He could still hear the musical instrument -his soulmate getting better at it- but more often than not, the music was just a sad acapella. The notes weighed heavily on Hanzo’s soul.

He wished he could sing back to tell his soulmate he was there, that they would meet someday and live happily. But he knew that even if he could sing perfectly, the person he wanted to sing for wouldn’t hear it.

* * *

 

As Hanzo entered adulthood, the music in his head changed. After years of sorrowful tunes, the joy he had heard as a child began to come back. It started as a rare occurrence, one song here and there in the middle of long stretches of silence, but it was definitely coming back, bringing a palette of warm colors to Hanzo’s paintings that hadn’t been seen in a very long time.

Suddenly, life was bearable again. Not quite happy, but good enough. Hanzo started to exhibit his work, and the elders were too busy with Genji’s rebellion to advise him against it.

Success knocked at his door -the people loved his paintings, both the sad and the happy ones. The elders let it slide, pleased to have good publicity for a change.

* * *

 

A couple years before Hanzo turned thirty, he noticed the singing in his head was becoming muffled. The songs were happier and more frequent, but somewhat muted. At first, he thought it was himself paying less attention to it, but soon he realized he had trouble understanding the lyrics when he had once heard them as though his soulmate was sitting next to him.

He started to worry: what if his soulmate was ill? It could be that their strength was leaving them… What if the gods had decided that Hanzo did not deserve this person? He had never tried to leave the city to seek them out, after all.

The days passed and the music grew fainter each day, almost unnoticeably slowly. Anguish rendered Hanzo’s paintings tormented, tortuous. He started painting foggy forests and muddy water, giving the viewer the impression that they could get swallowed and lost.

People called them masterpieces; Hanzo called them nightmares.

The last song he heard from his soulmate reminded Hanzo of his mother’s funeral. It was muted, sad, and made him feel miserable. After that, there was nothing.

Hanzo had always been deaf, but for the first time in his life, he was truly left in _silence_.

* * *

 

The first few weeks of complete silence were bad but manageable; when it turned into months, Hanzo started to worry a lot more. What if his soulmate had died? What if that last macabre song had been played at their funeral?

Hanzo found the silence smothering, making it hard for him to get up in the morning, hard to wash up, hard to eat.

One day, Genji entered his room with a bounce in his step. Hanzo wasn’t sure just how long it had been since he last left his room, but seeing his little brother admittedly made him feel better. Until Genji really looked at him and his features scrunched up into a frown, sadness and worry evident in his eyes.

“Hanzo, what’s wrong?” Genji signed.

He opened his mouth to answer but could not muster the strength to use his voice. He felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, so he tried to wipe them with his sleeve only to find that he did not have the strength to do that either. So he simply cried.

He didn’t know when Genji sat on the bed to hug him, but once he had calmed enough to feel the world around him, he found himself holding onto his little brother like a lifeline. He was tired; he wanted to sleep and never wake up again, but when he gently pushed Genji to let him know he wanted to rest, his brother signed again.

“I don’t want to force you, but you seem like you need to talk about it.”

So Hanzo did. They sat there for hours as Hanzo spilled his heart, telling his younger brother everything about the music, how it had started to fade, how it had stopped for months and how hollow it had left him.

Genji stayed by his side, rubbing comforting circles on his shoulder through it all. Once he was done signing, Genji took ahold of his jaw, making him look up.

“You know what? The elders don’t need us and you could use a vacation. How does a trip to America sound?”

* * *

 

It took some time to convince Hanzo to leave Japan, then some more time to convince the elders that the vacation was very much needed while their continued presence in Japan was not. But when they finally landed in San Francisco, Hanzo felt some of the tension leave his body.

Genji did his best to give Hanzo the most amazing holiday he could and, in turn, Hanzo tried to be less of a burden on his younger brother. There were still bad days, but he was doing better overall so they decided to stay. They rented a nice, modern house by the sea and started what they called their “second life.”

The elders called about once a month to discuss their “allowance,” as if they were still children, but never asked them to come back. Eventually, Genji found a job as a martial arts instructor in hopes of cutting the bridge between them and the clan. Hanzo likewise began working as a Sign Language teacher and soon their “allowance” was cut off.

Their only link left with the clan was their aging and retired father, who was all too happy to call them both to pass the time.

Eventually, Hanzo took up his artistic hobbies again, painting various places in the city. He could see the pain in his brother’s eyes whenever he showed him his monochrome ink paintings, depicting the world as he saw it: cold, uninviting, and colorless. He refused to use color; the cheerful hues reminded him too much of a time he believed to be over, of a world where he knew someone was out there for him.

* * *

 

A few months after they made the decision to stay in San Francisco and almost a year after the overbearing silence had started, Hanzo found himself humming. He was in the middle of a class, watching his students -people of all ages and origins- practice conversing when it happened.

It came naturally to him, like getting back on a bicycle after winter had passed. That may be why he did not notice it until a bunch of his students looked at him with weird expressions on their faces. He turned to face them and signed, “Is something wrong?”

They looked at each other until one of his favorite students, a young mother learning the language to communicate with her deaf niece, signed back to him.

“It’s just,” she paused to choose her signs carefully, “we have never heard you hum before.”

Hanzo shot her an incredulous look. There was no way he could have been humming; he hadn’t even heard music since-

That’s when he noticed it, that barely audible and rusty hum in his head. A muted song morphing into whispered lyrics:

_Fools, said I, you do not know_  
Silence like a cancer grows  
_Hear my words that I might teach you_  
_Take my arms that I might reach you_  
_But my words like silent raindrops fell_

_And echoed_  
_In the wells_  
_Of silence_

The rusty voice faded back into a hum then, and Hanzo found himself unable to move. The voice was definitely deeper and harsher than he remembered, but it was there, his soulmate was there.

Hanzo let out a sob, unable to keep the tears from falling. His entire class was looking at him then, and the mother from earlier started to applaud. Soon, all of his students were clapping their hands, congratulating him. Even though they didn’t know the story, they could tell it had something to do with his soulmate and they knew just how important it was.

As soon as he could stand up and hold his phone, Hanzo excused himself to video call his younger brother. He started to cry again when he tried to deliver the news, making it impossible to talk. After ten minutes of fruitless tears, he received a text from Genji, asking Hanzo to join him at the dojo.

When he got there, Genji cut his class short and lead them both to a secluded booth in a café. He got them hot drinks and let Hanzo talk as long as he needed, not interrupting even once, which was a rather impressive feat for Genji.

When Hanzo was finished, Genji gave him a hug and insisted that Hanzo hum him the song.  He did, with hands on his temple and throat to better feel the vibrations. It was probably horrible, but Genji listened and thanked him nonetheless before telling him the name of the song: “The Sound of Silence.”

* * *

 

During the next few days, Hanzo heard humming and singing a lot, but there was no trace of a musical instrument. He didn’t know why his soulmate had been silent for so long or why the instrument was gone now, but he suspected a pretty bad accident or severe depression. He tried not to think too hard about it and just enjoy the simple knowledge that someone out there was meant for him and, more importantly, that he could hear them sing.

A week later, Hanzo was sitting in their living room, dozing off while Genji was watching a documentary. They had the subtitles off so he wouldn’t be distracted from the scenery, content to watch as colorful birds performed some kind of mating dance on the screen while his soulmate’s humming played in his head. He burrowed deeper into their comfortable sofa, ready to fall asleep, when suddenly the humming got very loud, startling him.

For a few minutes, the volume of the humming varied wildly before settling on a somewhat normal middle setting. That’s when he realized: his soulmate must be trying out hearing aids. Hanzo grabbed Genji’s shoulder then, shaking him in his excitement. His soulmate’s hearing was impaired; they would be able to relate when they finally met!

Hanzo talked too fast and had to repeat the signs more slowly for Genji, who then grinned and told him that he believed his own soulmate had hearing aids, too. Hanzo gasped, unaware that Genji had heard his soulmate at all. With all his personal turmoil during the past year, he hadn’t even thought to ask his younger brother about it. It was time to change that.

“You did not tell me about your soulmate,” he signed.

“Well, I went to your room the day I heard them for the first time so I could tell you about it but,” he paused and looked away. Hanzo shook his shoulder again, prompting him to continue. “But then I saw you in your bed, unwashed and with the biggest circles under your eyes; it just didn’t seem like the right moment.”

“Well, I am better now and I want to know.”

Genji smiled. “Let’s get started then!”

* * *

 

After that night, Hanzo made sure to regularly ask Genji about his soulmate, learning that once a month they would listen to calm instrumentals while checking their hearing aid settings, that they sometimes listened to music closer to Genji’s tastes, and that one time they had spent a day listening to musical pieces from different periods in chronological order.

“They seem to have a very curious nature,” Genji said over dinner. “Although I’ve never heard them sing or hum anything so it’s a bit weird.”

“Maybe they simply cannot speak,” Hanzo answered.

Genji shrugged it off, asking him about his own soulmate instead. “Do they still practice?”

“Yes.” Hanzo smiled. “They practice every day though they are still very far from how good they used to be. I wonder if they broke an arm.”

“You said they’ve been practicing for, what, a month?”

“A month and 28 days, actually.”

Genji laughed. “You have it _so bad_ , brother! And you haven’t even met them!!!”

Hanzo smacked the back of his head, laughing. It felt so good to be close to his brother. They had never spent much time together as kids, mostly because of the language barrier.

Genji waved at him to get his attention before signing, “Did you make up your mind about the art gallery's offer?”

“I think I will accept it, although I will ask them if they can wait until I have a more… joyful piece to offer. If my soulmate lives in the area, I don’t want them to think I am gloomy.”

“I don’t think they live in the area; from what you’ve told me, they sing way too many country songs.” He laughed but put a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. We’ll find them.”

* * *

 

As time passed, more and more art galleries called Hanzo -they even had to buy a device that could translate the audio into text- to ask if they could exhibit and sell a few of his paintings. Hanzo accepted every offer except when a deal wasn’t good enough, wanting nothing more than to become famous enough that his soulmate would one day see his paintings.

He still taught sign language classes but not as many. Now that he was becoming famous, he no longer needed the money, but he didn’t want to let it go completely as he’d found that he actually liked to teach.

One day, an association called him to ask if he could give art classes to hearing-impaired and mute teenagers and children, to which he immediately agreed because he knew how hard it could be to find a capable instructor. Even his family’s wealth hadn’t lured any deaf-friendly art teachers, and he had to learn to read lips before he was finally able to study with a professional.

Two years after Hanzo had settled in San Francisco -and about one year after he started to hear his soulmate again- the music played by the instrument in his head was almost flawless. But then something weird started to happen.

Every day, for a few hours, Hanzo would hear the instrument play a bunch of notes over and over again, testing new combinations and different rhythms before stopping then starting anew. He didn’t really know what was happening, and he guessed that his soulmate had just decided to practice a complicated song, but after a week, lyrics joined in and Hanzo realized: his soulmate was composing a song.

It was a soft melody, the kind that reminded Hanzo of watching snow fall through the window while snuggling under the kotatsu, but also the kind you wouldn’t mind listening to to drown your sorrow. The lyrics were often half-mumbled as his soulmate was still trying to write them, but after another week had passed, Hanzo heard the complete song for the first time.

It talked about silence, how lonely it felt and how they tried to forget it, how they sang to fill in the gaps. But what touched Hanzo the most was the ending.

_When I found out after,_  
_That sounds could not reach me,_  
_Then I realized that maybe,_  
_Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me._

Hanzo felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes -they understood. When they had partially lost their hearing, they had realized. _And they composed a song for him about it_.

* * *

 

During the following month, Hanzo heard that song a lot. He briefly wondered if his soulmate had recorded it, because most of the time it had exactly the same intonations and tempo, while it tended to be more relaxed and less controlled in the evenings.

Hanzo very rarely had things made for him when he was younger. Sure, his family learned sign language and bought him presents, but no one had ever crafted something just for him. He never had friends outside of the family and didn’t go to school, so he never even got chocolate for Valentine’s day like Genji did.

Having something as precious as a song gifted to him was so inspiring that he painted an entire polyptych of five canvases based on the song. They were the first and only pieces he refused to exhibit or sell, setting them up in his bedroom so that they would be the first and last things he saw every day.

As months passed, his soulmate composed more songs and Hanzo painted more pieces. He became so famous that a museum contacted him to ask if they could organize an exhibition of his works. It took some convincing from Genji, but eventually Hanzo accepted.

When he contacted them, they decided on a date and asked Hanzo if he could come to their city for the grand opening. It took some more convincing, but he eventually agreed. He had never gone very far from San Francisco and never left Hanamura when he still lived there; maybe a trip to a distant city would do him good.

* * *

 

All things considered, the city was nice. It was noisy and polluted, but lacked the chilly wind of San Francisco and the fake traditional look of Hanamura. It was like most US cities Hanzo had seen in photographs, with huge skyscrapers, geometric streets, and big squares.

He wasn’t particularly awed nor disappointed by the city, but they had some pretty interesting museums he wanted to check out. After meeting up with the organizers of his exhibit, he was given a free pass that was good for public transportation and entry to many museums. They informed him that some of his art pieces hadn’t arrived yet but should be there in time for the opening a week later, and asked him if he wanted to take a look and move any pieces around.

After spending a couple of hours in the aisle hosting his exhibit, Hanzo was invited to check out the rest of the museum. One of the organizers stayed with him, talking animatedly about their impressive collection from all over the world. More than once, Hanzo had to ask them to slow down and repeat themselves, but he didn’t mind the company. It was always nice to meet passionate people.

They explained that this particular museum had a big collaboration going with the local music academy, allowing students and teachers to study and handle the museum's collection of musical instruments from various historical eras and cultures, encouraging them to think outside the box. Once a month, a music teacher came to play in the halls so that museum visitors could hear how various instruments sounded and see how they were played. At the end of their visit, the organizer asked Hanzo if he would mind having a little concert at the end of the opening day. A newly-popular singer was in town, having just finished touring.

Hanzo had no reason to refuse; he had never been to a concert and likely would never go to one if not for this opportunity. He assured the organizer that he would be able to enjoy it as long as he was able to feel the vibrations, and that it would be all good as long as they reserved a private spot for him away from the crowd. They thanked him with a big smile and bid him farewell, telling him to enjoy the city before the opening day.

So he did just that, visiting the city’s zoo and many museums, even bringing Genji to one that was dedicated to superheroes around the world. He also ventured out a couple of times to enjoy the local nightlife.

* * *

 

The day before the event, Hanzo went to the laundromat down the street from their hotel. He liked to do his own laundry with his own detergent. The one used by the servants at Shimada castle had always reminded him of his mother too much. Then he moved to America and there was no one else to do it for him anyway, except maybe Genji, but he wouldn’t trust anyone who used the words “laundry” and “Genji” in the same sentence.

They had only been there for a week, but he was amazed to find just how many outfits his younger brother had stained with sweat, drinks, and sauces as he started to separate the bright colors from the light and dark ones, making three neat piles on a bench. He looked around the place, confirming that it was empty before he started humming his soulmate’s latest song to himself. It was one of Hanzo’s favorites even though it didn’t have lyrics yet. It was an upbeat and innocent tune, like a child talking about their crush.

He was unscrewing his bottle of detergent when someone grabbed his arm, almost making him drop it to the floor. He turned and glared at whoever almost made him spill his perfectly fine and expensive bottle only to be met with an equally angry face. The man who had interrupted him said something, but Hanzo was too surprised to really pay attention -what right had this man to shout at him? If anything, he should be the one shouting!

“I do not understand why you are angry at me,” Hanzo said slowly, a hand on his temple to help him speak. “I wasn’t the one rudely interrupting your laundry time.”

The man answered and this time Hanzo tried to follow what he was saying, but the words were spoken too quickly for him to catch, on top of what seemed to be an accent distorting the motion of his lips. Great.

“Could you articulate? I cannot understand a word you are saying.”

The man puffed up like an angry bird, his brows furrowing further. He started talking again and Hanzo tried really hard to focus on his lips, but despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t make out half the words. Something...play dumb...something? Hanzo frowned, did he sound condescending? He leaned back to look at the man’s face, ready to apologize and explain, only to find that the other’s frown was gone, replaced by huge, surprised eyes.

Hanzo took the time to look at the stranger in an attempt to finally understand what was going on. The man had big brown eyes framed by thick eyebrows, and hair so long it would have fallen into his eyes if he hadn’t worn a hat. A cowboy hat of all things; he must be from the desert, then.

Hanzo watched as the man’s full lips shaped into a big, round “Oh.” He must have finally understood that Hanzo was deaf, good. Then why did his expression turn so hopeful? The man then inhaled through his mouth, pursed his lips, and stood there expectantly.

Hanzo heard humming.

As much as he loved his soulmate’s songs, now wasn’t really the moment; he didn’t know what this man wanted with him and the music distracting him wouldn’t help. But then the man started swaying, and as he opened his mouth to take another breath, Hanzo’s eyes went wide.

The man before him was totally in sync with the humming in his head.

Hanzo watched, mesmerized as the stranger did it again and, without thinking, he laid a hand on the man’s chest to feel the vibrations. His soulmate let out a breathy laugh and sang the lyrics softly. For the first time in his life, Hanzo could hear what he was reading on the lips of another human being.

_When I found out after,_  
_That sounds could not reach me,_  
_Then I realized that maybe,_  
_Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me._

His soulmate smiled warmly at him and pointed at his ear, where Hanzo could see a small transparent device. He could already feel the tears spilling all over his cheeks as he choked out a weak, “I _know_.”

Hanzo felt his soulmate slowly drawing him in for a hug and rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades. He held onto him tightly, trying -and failing- to stop staining the man’s plaid shirt with tears. The humming picked back up and Hanzo found himself so comfortable he never wanted this moment to end.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours until the man gently pushed Hanzo away and cupped his cheek, carefully articulating.

“You ok?”

Hanzo wiped his eyes with his palm and nodded with a smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak through the emotional train wreck this meeting turned out to be.

“May I take you out for coffee?”

Hanzo’s smile grew bigger and he nodded again before taking his phone out, opening a new notes sheet and typing, “I don’t think I can focus enough to speak rn, do you know sign language?” He pointed his phone towards his soulmate so he could read the message.

The man looked up from the phone. “Not enough to have a conversation, but I can give you my number.”

Hanzo nodded and opened up his contact information, turning his phone towards his soulmate again. The man entered the number into his own phone, a big smile splitting his face in two. A few seconds later, Hanzo received a text from an unknown number saying, “Hanzo, huh? That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Jesse :)”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Jesse. I would love to get coffee once I am done cleaning all these shirts,” he typed, hit send and then gestured at the two remaining piles of dirty laundry he came to wash.

Jesse chuckled and nodded, pointing at his own pile of clothes before typing his answer. “Fortunately, I have some cleaning to do myself. How about I keep you company?”

* * *

 

When Hanzo came back to the hotel at the end of the day, Genji immediately jumped on him, asking him what took so long. He grinned, lifted his chin and signed, “I may or may not have met an amazing man whose name is Jesse McCree.”

“Jesse McCree… The singer?” Genji signed and then stopped, his mouth slowly forming a perfect, round O. “HOOOOOOLY SHIT!!! IS YOUR SOULMATE JESSE MCCREE???!” He probably shouted, signing along with his words. “Hanzo, that’s amazing! They were talking about him on TV just yesterday!!”

“They also talked about me on TV,” he pouted.

“Hanzo, _please_. They only mentioned you once in passing because of the exhibit. This guy just finished a _tour_ on the West Coast!” Genji slid a hand through his hair, the movement of his shoulders indicating a sigh. “I cannot believe your soulmate is a popular singer, I always thought you’d end up with one of those hobos who thinks they're cool because they wear dreadlocks and walk barefoot.”

“Wow, thanks, Genji,” Hanzo signed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I never thought your soulmate would be a disappointment, but I am starting to believe they could very well be an old uni teacher.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Hanzo crossed his arms and raised a brow, his face the perfect picture of “Oh, really?”

“Alright, I deserved it. Now tell me! How did you meet? How was he? Does he really dress like that unironically?”

“I will tell you everything, but dinner first, if you don’t mind.”

* * *

 

The next day, Genji insisted on being there for the grand opening of Hanzo’s exhibit, bragging to every single person he met that he had been the first one in their family to believe his brother had a real talent for art, making Hanzo’s eyes roll.

A few people recognized him and stopped to chat, with Genji helping translate when they spoke too fast. It was nice to hear which paintings they liked most, or which technique they preferred. A lot of them were art students, and a few others were hearing-impaired or deaf. He was surprised when an old Japanese man stopped by to tell him that he had been following Hanzo’s career ever since he won his first artistic contest in Hanamura.

He told Hanzo that he had been a member of the jury, and that he hadn’t known he was a Shimada until he showed up to claim his prize flanked by four bodyguards. He also told him how relieved he had been when he saw Hanzo’s huge smile and his brother loudly clapping to congratulate him, that he thought they were good kids then.

When the old man excused himself so that he could continue looking at the pieces displayed, Hanzo gave his most respectful bow and thanked him for taking the time to come over and chat. In the corner of his eye, he saw Genji do the same.

Around lunch time, Hanzo felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and let a happy sigh escape him when he saw a text from Jesse.

“Hey! Organizers said I need to be there around 3pm, wanna grab lunch in the area? :)”

“Sure, do you have a place in mind? We’ll join you there.”

“We? You are full of secrets, Mister Shimada ✨” Hanzo laughed and had already started replying when a new text arrived. “How does Bacon Bros. Diner sound? It’s on 5th”

“What kind of name is that? :’) I can’t stop laughing, people are looking at me.”

“Just two bros having dinner. 5 feet apart because they’re not gay :^D”

“Except we’re gay”

“We’ll just have to eat only one foot apart then!”

 Hanzo snickered and quickly typed his answer. “Perfect, meet you there in 15 minutes?”

“Sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see you again ♥”

Genji was almost more excited about the lunch date than Hanzo. When confronted about it, he pretended it was because he wanted to meet someone famous, but Hanzo knew him too well to believe that. Genji wasn’t exactly what he would call a “fan” of Jesse’s songs, being more into kpop, and Hanzo knew his brother had met his share of famous people back in Hanamura.

Lunch went well. Jesse and Genji got along pretty well despite a few embarrassing questions about each other’s fashion choices, and soon they were walking back towards the museum. A few people stopped them on the street, asking if they could take a picture with Jesse. A couple of them also inquired about Hanzo and Genji, but Jesse just put a finger to his lips and said it was a secret they could find hints about at the museum.

They arrived an hour and a half before Jesse had to be present for the last adjustments, so Hanzo invited him to check out the exhibition. The first pieces were sketches and studies from when he was a child. He explained that back when Genji didn’t know sign language very well, he found it easier to express himself through art, and that it was also an entertaining way to pass the time. In turn, Jesse told him a bit about his own childhood and how his mom always told him that music was important because it was his only link with his soulmate. He joked about not being very good at anything besides singing, and Hanzo assured him that he would be the judge of that.

Then they moved on to the paintings he did when he’d thought it would be nice if, when he met his soulmate, he could have something to give them the same way they gave him their comforting music. Jesse put a hand over his heart then and mimed being struck by Cupid, but Hanzo could tell he was genuinely touched.

As they kept walking through the exhibition, the pieces grew colder. Hanzo explained that he painted them around the time Jesse stopped playing the guitar -he was so happy he could finally give a name to that instrument- and sang his sad acapellas. Jesse explained that he stopped playing after his mother died, and that he got into trouble a lot in those days. He didn’t go into much detail, but it was clear Jesse was ashamed of that time period. It was okay though, they would have a lot of time to talk about it after they knew each other better.

Soon, they reached the warm sunsets and soft ambiance paintings Hanzo did when he started having his work exhibited in Japan. He turned to Jesse expectantly and the man explained that after a lot of trouble, one man saw potential in him and plucked his sorry ass out of the desert dirt. It wasn’t quite the freedom he craved, but things were getting better for him. The man who saw potential in him found out he could play the guitar and encouraged him to pick it back up. Hanzo also learned that around that time Jesse joined the army.

“I just didn’t wanna be no trouble to him, especially after all he did for me. I never finished school so there wasn’t much else I could do anyway,” he said sheepishly.

Hanzo hummed, probably too loudly. “I can relate to that.”

They walked into another room then, and Jesse froze only a few steps in. The room displayed all of Hanzo’s misty and darker paintings. They were a testament to his mastery in his field, but they all held an engulfing sadness that always made him shiver. He looked up at Jesse’s face, the perfect picture of shock and hurt. Hanzo’s eyes were fixed on the man next to him, who touched the tiny transparent device in his ear.

“Are those-”

“From when I noticed the music was becoming weaker? Yes.”

They didn’t linger in that room for long, too many dark memories for the both of them. Again, there would be time for that later.

They exited into a hall displaying the few pieces Hanzo drew when he moved to San Francisco. He told Jesse that Genji was the one to insist they move to America, and that those were hard times for him but the distance between himself and the rest of his family had done him good. He talked about how he started to teach sign language for a living and how he managed to get his life back in order.

He stopped in front of the last painting. “I thought you were dead,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Hanzo, I didn’t want this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.” He smiled before facing Jesse. “The day I finally heard you again, I was in the middle of a class. My students were practicing and I was watching over them like I always do. At some point, I noticed that a few of them had stopped conversing and were looking at me. They said I was humming.”

When Hanzo noticed the tears gathering at the corner of Jesse’s eyes, he gave him a side hug and patted his back. He felt the other lean into him so he kept his arm wrapped around Jesse as they walked all the way to the last room.

It was by far the largest of the entire exhibit, showcasing big polyptychs with bright colors. Hanzo stopped in front of each piece inspired by one of Jesse’s songs and tried to explain which song it belonged to. At one point, he tried to hum the melody instead but since Jesse was right next to him, he could hear himself and it just freaked him out too much.

“One more thing we’ll have time to work on,” Jesse joked, turning towards the next painting. “I was touched when you told me the paintings were based on the music you could hear from me, but these,” he paused, his shoulders moving along with a deep breath, “these are based on things I created. The songs I compose are mighty personal and I have no words to tell you how touched I am.”

“Did you notice? The set of paintings I made for the first song you composed for me are not in this room.”

Jesse paused and looked around, then back at Hanzo. “Where are they, then? Is there some kind of secret room we missed?”

Hanzo smirked. “Come over to my house in San Francisco and I will gladly show them to you. They are way too precious for me to trust anyone touching them.”

Jesse took off his hat and placed it over his heart, looking Hanzo straight in the eyes. “I think my heart just stopped.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon by an improvised stage outside. Jesse explained a few music things to Hanzo and showed him around behind the scenes. At one point, he convinced Hanzo to try playing the guitar. It was awful, his big fingers stumbling over unfamiliar chords. He didn’t know whether he was more frustrated or exhilarated that he was able to hear every single one of his mistakes.

* * *

 

About an hour before the concert, Hanzo was called to his VIP spot where the organizers had left a small bench with a sandwich and a water bottle for him. He was soon joined by Genji who had bought a bag of muffins for the two of them. Of course, his little brother asked to know every single detail of his and Jesse’s “date,” which Hanzo was all too happy to talk about.

A few minutes before the show, Genji joined the crowd, proclaiming that concerts were only good when you could smell everyone’s armpits and feel all those sweaty bodies pressed close to the stage. When Hanzo remarked that it sounded pretty gross, Genji shrugged and signed, “It’s half the charm,” with a toothy grin.

When Jesse arrived on stage and all the people started waving their arms, Hanzo moved his bench to get a little closer. He could see Jesse approach the microphone while clumsily signing, “Tonight is special. The man who paint are in this museum is deaf. I question his brother to sign along the lyrics of my songs.” Hanzo’s eyes widened as Genji jumped on stage and bowed, taking the signing over.

It had always been something to hear Jesse sing inside his head, but it was something entirely different to experience it live. Hanzo had a blast, not only listening to the music but also feeling the vibrations of it, making him feel like he was melting into the music, like he was part of the songs.

After the last song, Jesse leaned in to the microphone again and Hanzo looked to Genji for translation.

“I hope you had a blast tonight because I dedicate this concert to my soulmate, whose paintings are exhibited in this museum starting today!” Both the man on stage and the people in the crowd turned towards him. “Hanzo, darling, I am proud to be your soulmate,” Jesse signed as he spoke.

Hanzo rushed up and jumped onto the stage as fast as he could, throwing himself into Jesse’s arms. Their first kiss was captured by hundreds of cameras as they held each other on stage, but they didn’t care. They were finally united, happy.

**Author's Note:**

> THE FUCKING END
> 
> That was quite the ride, wasn't it? Now time for music!
> 
> [The sond of Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4) Jesse sings after his long months of silence  
> [You and I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdEN1b-dwlw), the sort of melody Hanzo hums at the laundromat  
> [Playlist (by Delanie) of the kind of music Jesse sings ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkOHqBy-hzIn0UHZ_da-FQ_lTwXS56BVC)
> 
> Thank you again for reading and if you want to talk to me, you can find me on tumblr and twitter under the name Ecchima!
> 
>  
> 
> [Art? ART! By Delanie again!](http://delanbie.tumblr.com/post/170956941912/all-the-art-i-did-for-soulmate-au-from-the-mchanzo)


End file.
